


arboretum

by en passant (corinthian)



Category: Fate/EXTRA
Genre: Gen, mundane/modern au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 03:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5569522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinthian/pseuds/en%20passant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of trees</p><hr/><p>a set of snapshots revolving around Robin and Dan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Robin is ten, he's dared to throw a rock through the window of an abandoned house by some of the other neighborhood kids. He one ups them by picking up a stick, and breaking every window he can reach. It's only fifteen minutes before the cops arrive and that's his first arrest. He likes to tell his friends that the first one _really_ means something, so he can brag about how young he was when he started his life of crime.

The truth is, really, it meant something to him because he remembered waiting at the police station for someone to pick him up, even though he knew no one would. And because he bit the policeman and it just wasn't a taste he could wash out of his mouth, no matter how many graham crackers and juice boxes they offered him. (Skin and generic soap and gunpowder.)

That's why, eleven years later, it's a shock when Dan comes to the police station — it's late, and Dan is old, and honestly he shouldn't even _care_ — and doesn't even look disappointed. He doesn't even say anything, just stands in front of Robin and waits for an explanation. Not that Robin would give him one anyway. There are only a handful of things he could say about getting caught breaking into the post office and even less that he could say about all of the broken windows and ripped open PO Boxes. Most of them were lame, anyway. And, Robin's not the kind of guy to give up someone else's secrets. Intercepting a package should have been easy, but instead he messed it up. Just desserts, really.

"Ah, man, really messed this one up, if you're here to give me an earful." Is all Robin can say, as a half-apology. "Kind of pathetic, isn't it?"

Dan just places his hand on Robin's shoulder in an irritatingly understanding manner. It would be better, Robin thinks, if he was at least chastised for his actions. A lecture would be easier to stomach than Dan's stern, quiet but solid presence.

"Yeah, yeah. But you know what? I'm not taking it back." Robin continues, brushes Dan's hand off his shoulder. "Not everyone can be as upstanding as you, got it?"

But, Robin lets Dan drive him home, pretends not to notice when Dan waits for him to go inside his apartment before he leaves. And, for his part, Robin waits until he can't see the tail lights of Dan's — practical, midsized family car — to sit on the carpet and place his head in his hands.

"I fucked up. Sorry about that, old man."


	2. Chapter 2

_Where do you see yourself in five years?_ The college presenter was a smartly dressed young woman, far too eager to pass out pamphlets and extol the virtues of their five years masters program! Perfect for young professionals looking to make a difference in the world!

Robin couldn't roll his eyes hard enough. He knew way better than to be tempted by those kind of sales pitches, even if some treacherous part of him wanted to leap at the idea. Make a difference. But he learned a long time ago that anyone who said they could make a difference was just spitting hot air. People who _really_ wanted to make a difference just did it, they didn't wait to be praised for it.

"Hopefully not dead," He jokes to her, taking the offered pamphlet and then swiftly tucking it into her jacket pocket. He might not be great at school — quite the opposite — but he's always been good with his hands. But as he withdraws his hand, someone else grasps his wrist.

It's not the woman, but an older man. Robin didn't even notice him standing there, stiff and silent and solemn. He may as well have been a statue, except that he intercepted Robin's hand. It was a little embarrassing.

"Certainly, we look forward to the future possibilities of our students, not dead ends."

"Ha! You mean the future of my wallet, huh?" Robin counters and tries to pull his hand back. He meets a little resistance before he's released.

"I understand your cynicism, but I won't try to convince you with words. When you visit the campus, we'll have you sit in on a class."

"Fat chance."

"My name is Dan Blackmore, it's a pleasure."

"Screw you too."

Despite his words, in two weeks when he had a chance, Robin visits the campus. It's in town, they have open class sessions all week, he goes to scope it out and mock it, that's what he tells himself. But he can't help himself, even standing in the back of a classroom that when the same old guy — nosy, way too composed to be real, shouldn't he be in an old folks' home or something? — asked what governing branch could bring around the most positive change in the case of civil rights that Robin couldn't hold back anymore.

"None of them!"

"Hm? Care to elaborate?" Dan addresses him, just as he would have any of the other students. Despite the sour looks and murmurs from the class, Robin shrugs and waves his hand.

"As if they're interested in our problems. Change doesn't just trickle down, you know? The plump want to stay plump, so it's gotta start from below."

"Anything else to add?"

"Does talking about this shit ever get anything done?"

"With people like you at the helm, perhaps. If you can overcome your hotheaded flaws, there could be a leader for true change in there."

It's too much. Robin sticks both his middle fingers up into the air, makes sure Professor Dan Blackmore can see them, and marches out.

Four months later, he sends his application in, right on the postmark deadline.


	3. Chapter 3

One of Robin's friends loves drinking and the other friend just likes causing trouble. Together, the three of them, they're all delinquents of a kind. They aren't the kind of kids with fake IDs or anything, but they know where to get a bottle, or two, or three. They spend the summer roaming the streets and pretending they're worse than they are.

They pick out houses to egg, expensive cars to key — petty, useless and thoughtless little actions to get back at someone. Someone always has enough cash so they can buy something to eat, or Robin steals something. He has the best pockets and hands for that kind of thing and the best demeanor, too.

"You just can't get concerned with looking guilty," he explains, emptying out the three microwave burritos and bottle of vodka from his pockets.

"Ah, this is why you're our friend, Robin!" Faint praise, but it's good enough. They eat lukewarm burritos and drink until it seems like a good idea to throw rocks off of a highway overpass at night. 

It's funny, because years later, Robin can't really remember their names. Just that the friend who liked to drink had deep pockets, hated retail workers and always needed Robin to steal him some booze. The other friend he remembered even less about, but assumed that's because high school friends can be easily forgotten. Besides, thinking about it too much made him feel lonely, which was a pretty annoying feeling.


	4. Chapter 4

College is hard. Robin doesn't like it.

He's doing poorly in all of his classes and will probably fail out of at least one of them, in no small part to not doing the assignments and having poor attendance. He just can't get up the energy to care. The only class he can muster up any effort for is Professor Blackmore's and even there he's barely passing.

He picks up the same kind of friends. John. William. Henry. Guys who like stuff. William likes drinking, John likes breaking bottles and Henry just loves having fun. Robin knows, really, that they don't get along that well. When they get too drunk they argue about stupid things.

The future. Global warming. If it's okay to catcall girls. The best tasting shitty candy bar. If there's any justice in the world. The only serious fight they have is when William wants to copy Robin's homework for Professor Blackmore's class and says, "Shitty old man won't even know, I bet he doesn't even read them."

And for some reason Robin gets so angry. But they're dumb college kids and getting into drunken fistfights is fine. He wins it, anyway, just barely and because he fights dirty. (Dirty, like picking up an empty beer bottle and jabbing the mouth of it into William's kidney like a dagger.)

"Whatever man, it's not worth it." William finally admits, through a bloody lip and a wheeze.

"I don't really care, but I've been looking at your face all day, had to do something about it." Robin laughs. Henry and John offer him high fives. The night continues on, and no one else insults the professor.


	5. Chapter 5

Two years — two and a half, really — after Robin had dropped out of college, he got a call from Mrs. Blackmore. He had never learned her name, only ever called her 'the prof's wife' and 'the missus' and sometimes, 'not so bad.'

"Of all the students he had, I think he'd like to see you again."

"What, is the old man dying?" Robin still hadn't figured out how to make his voice sound calm or compassionate. It came out rougher than he expected.

"The way he goes on, it might sound like he is. But don't worry, it's just early retirement." There's something in the way she says it that doesn't sit well with Robin, but he hates being depended on. It's better when people don't know him, can't expect anything of him and forget he existed all along. (Or something like that.)

"I'm still in town, so maybe I'll drop by. If I can find the time." He says.

"I think he'd like that."

It takes Robin three days to get up the courage to visit. He doesn't want to seem too eager, but a kind of dread that he hasn't felt in a long time fills his days. It's too similar to not knowing where he was going to be staying the night, who would be there in the morning or if he had any real purpose in the world. But instead it's wondering if Dan Blackmore was dying and not being able to come to terms with caring.

_Stupid, shitty, old man._ Robin thinks as he walks, the long way through the park and behind the apartment complexes, to the Blackmore house.

He's never once been inside, but often enough to the front step. The time he carried groceries in for the Blackmores. The time one of his friends (friends? acquaintance) had thrown up on the professor's doorstep. Dropping off a paper, very late, over winter break one time. Sitting on the stoop, because he didn't have anywhere else to go but turning away Dan's offer for dinner with a sneer.

He rings the doorbell.

It's Dan Blackmore himself who opens the door. He looks even older and more tired, but still as stiff as ever.

"You never change, do you?" Robin asks.

"I hope you haven't come with a late paper." Dan says, slowly. There's a slight drag to his words that matches the way that the left side of his face doesn't quite move correctly. Robin swallows hard.

"Ha! Gave up on all of that academic shit years ago."

"What do you do now?" Dan shuffles backwards. There's a certain frailty that Robin would never have thought his professor could have. All of his memories of Dan are him at the classroom front, rigid and unyielding. Or at home, stubbornly putting up his own fence and doing his own home repairs. Always the perfect husband and handyman, or, giving off that kind of impression.

"Newspaper gig. Not a very good one. Basically a red top." Robin shrugs, steps inside. "Way better than teaching though. You won't catch me dead in a classroom again. Shitty ungrateful brats aren't my forte."

"Investigative journalism is?" Dan comments, mildly. "I'm glad to hear that you're doing well."

It somehow feels like an attack. "Look! Your wife asked me to come, I wouldn't have." Robin starts, then stops himself and has to start over. "Not gonna be cruel, you look like shit. Can't say you never did anything for me either. I just thought I'd make it even."

"What did she say? That I needed some company?" Dan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "She thinks I've been hassling her ever since I retired."

"You do seem like a handful, old man." Robin can't help but to agree.

"Your manners haven't improved." It's a slight admonishment, but for some reason it makes Robin laugh and lifts his spirits.

"We can't all be upstanding and polite like you."


	6. Chapter 6

They want him to leave college, two arrests and several _pending_ issues and Robin can't say he disagrees with the logic either. It would be easier on everyone if he dropped out than was forcibly expelled — but mostly because Dan Blackmore, the oldest and longest employed teacher on campus kept putting in good words for Robin.

"Can't you mind your own business?" Robin complains, after his meeting with the Dean and he finds Dan in the hallway. It feels too much like a courthouse.

"Can't you control yourself for a semester?" Dan responds. It isn't malicious, but a statement. It carries a parental heaviness to it — if this were a movie, Robin expects that the next statement would be some line about going to bed with no dinner, or something equally lame.

"I'm just not cut out for this. Doing homework, kissing ass, you know." Robin waves a hand. "The real world isn't like that anyway, so what's the point of this?"

"You'll never know if you don't try to apply yourself." 

"Fuck you too."

"Language, Robin." Dan's voice carries exasperation, but also fondness. Robin hates how genuine he is, all the time. It makes him feel like a liar.

"I'll swear if I want. Shit. Damn. Fuck. Nothing bad happened to me just for saying that! See there, your stupid expectations on what's proper or not don't really matter." Something about Dan makes Robin feel like a little kid, but in a way that he doesn't really understand. No one was ever around to reprimand him into good behaviour and no one ever expected him to be more than the snot nosed brat he had been. Dan's unreasonably positive belief in him kept wearing him down.

"Robin."

"I'm dropping out." He declares.

"In the end, you have to do what's best for you." Dan is agreeable, even if he's also disappointed. Robin feels like crying, but he can't back down now.

The very next day he submits his papers for withdrawal.


	7. Chapter 7

The newspaper lets him work remote, especially when he explains that after the stroke, Dan just needs a little extra help around the house. He doesn't use that many words, of course. Just that a family friend needs some heavy lifting and Robin needs the extra money. He complains about it too, every day, but he complains louder when Dan tries to do something he definitely shouldn't. (Clean the gutters. Mow the lawn. Dust the ceiling fan. What the fuck, Dan.)

It's only temporary, until the Blackmores get used to their new way of life. Until Dan stops trying to do so much and they figure out if they want to move into a single story house or not. Maybe next year, Robin thinks, he'll think about his own future. He's only missing a handful of credits from college, really, and as much as he hates to admit it, Dan might have a point every time he says that Robin could really go places and do things with his life.

(And, maybe a little, he's tired of being a disappointment.)


End file.
